


Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

by crazynoona



Category: British Actor RPF, Tasertricks - Fandom, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Beta'd, Did I mention Love?, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff and all that, Full on romance, I repeat, Not, Not Beta'd, Oh and Also, Romantic Comedy, Smut, Super Sweet Happy Ending, This should be a series but I crammed it into one monstrous chapter, a foreign movie with bad subtitles, consider you're reading a movie ;p, love love love, tasertricks - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-02
Packaged: 2018-04-07 08:29:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4256445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazynoona/pseuds/crazynoona
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When love came knocking on your door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Q_it](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Q_it/gifts).



> So, a few days ago I shamelessly complained to Q that I'm not sure on dear old me writing about love (for my upcoming chapter of The Devil) because I'm SUCK at it. Playing hard to get or skittering around it was way easier than the actual thing thus I decide to write it out, as an exercise, of a lovey dovey scene (still smutty and slightly dirty) and this happened. This still me, if you read all my other stories (bless you) then you might notice how (because those are big BIG words and I'm scawed to use them) I avoided the _'I L you'_ line being declared so vividly, blatantly and chose to conveyed it through another gesture, another word. 
> 
> The thought of dividing this into a few shorter chapters came to mind, but I kinda want this to feel like ... sort of a movie lol 
> 
> For being such a cool gal, I dedicate this one for you Q! And for all of you too of course ♡ 
> 
> Enjoy darlings!
> 
> xxoo
> 
> P.S :  
> Not Beta'd.  
> Caution : grammatical landmine ahead.  
> Uhh umm and I'm always nervous and shy about posting my work out here, so if you think it's icky and somehow makes you cringe, you can pretend you never drop by ;p

* * *

 

 

 _Run. Run faster_. Loki commanded his feet to speed up. Panting breath echoed in the obscurity. He doesn't have to turn his head to know that those steps are still chasing after him, calling out his name, begging him to stop. _Just a word, a minute, please,_ they pleaded. He doesn't listen. He keeps on running through the haze of the streetlamps above his head.

In unpredictable moment such this he’s thankful that he choose running as one of his favorite sport. Though after playing cat and mouse surpassing dozens blocks with those news hunters, sweat profusely trickling on his temple as his wild heartbeat drumming in sync with the rapping of his large steps down the empty alley.

Fortunately at least he’s being chased in his hometown so he wouldn’t have to add getting lost to his list of concern. The memory of this city forever imprinted in his head and he recognized this street. Mrs. Hudson, their quirky old maid lived nearby after she resigned and opened a vintage bakery. Perhaps he could crash at her place, just like back in the days when the thought of going home got too unbearable.

A week ago he wouldn’t dream to be tangled in such arduous scene. Not after resigning his position from the Odinsons Corp. three years back. He's now nothing but a nameless journalist, a content one at that for he got all the privacy he needed in the world, a privacy that is now once again stolen from little that he holds dear inside his treasury.

Last Monday the news struck the media, of his true parentage. That the stranger, said to be his true father – late father, left him a chunk loads of money and company share (which networth said to be billions) in his final will. Everything went haywire afterward. Shallowly rooted from all those things Loki knew absolutely _nothing_ about. Causing his face to once again, exhibited all over the news and tabloids. Not as Loki the wayward second son of the Odinsons everyone once knew, not even as Loki the war journalist. They gave him a new title. The bastard. The bastard that won the lottery.

How quaint. Inheritance he doesn’t need, attention he doesn’t seek, both are now hotly tailing on his back. Anger is the last thing on his mind, now he’s just tired. So fucking tired of all the chaos and bullshit.

Long fingers rove to his black raven hair, now damp with sweat. How he wanted to bark a loud ‘Fuck Off!’ at those men, but that would only create another headline.

Loki slowed down his pace, his breathing getting harder by the second, and even though the wintry air caressed his skin, his lungs start to burn. He needs to stop, he needs a place to hide before he could catch a plane to rid himself out of this place.

In the dead of the night, as if the heaven above answers his prayer, he arrives at the bakery, his old save house. A light in its arching window turns to life and he knocks.

 

***

 

_Thud! Thud! Thud!_

 

Soft knocks turn into insistent pounding on her door.

 

“Excuse me Mrs. Hudson! It’s me!”

 

 _Mrs. Hudson?_ Who the heck is that? Darcy thinks. Turning to the hallway on her way to the kitchen.

 

_Thud! Thud! Thud! Thud!_

 

The pounding proceeds. _This better be something important!_ She grumbles.

 

“Please, it’s Loki, I really need your help!” The man’s voice full of dread and out of breath.

 

 _Loki? What an unusual name_ , she muses. A minute passes as she weighs whether to take a peek or keep on working. But then the thought of ignoring a man in need pinches her conscience. Maybe he knows the previous owner of this place? This actually isn't the first time someone mistakenly knocks on their door thinking it was still the bakery (they don’t bother to remodel the place, monetary issue aside, they find the arching window at the front to be quite cute). Jane said the previous owner got re-married and moved with her new husband to Belgravia.

Darcy moves like a shadow behind the deco glass of her door, the chains connected on it clink as she slowly turns the metal knob.

 

“Yes?” She greets him in a stern voice, keeping the door only slightly ajar with the chains intact.

 

The man out her door looks as if he was about to say something but he withdrew. His face a bit faltered when he sees her, obviously noticing the lack of Mrs. Hudson and her bakery.

 

“I - I’m terribly sorry to bother you in this time of the night, but swear to gods, I mean no harm. This place used to be – “

“Let me guess, Mrs. Hudson’s?” She raises her brow.

“Yes and, again I’m sorry, but I really need a bit of your help.” He says to her in a single breath, afraid that she might slams the door to his face (and he wouldn’t blame her).

 

Darcy peeks beyond the gap, the lean man is _damn_ tall, definitely over six feet. The moonlight lends its bright, flooding faint silver light at the stranger, her unexpected guest. He’s staring at her with his piercing green eyes full of hope but also of distress, a crack in his smooth voice. He isn’t lying about needing her help, of that she is sure.

 

“What do you want?” She quips as she squints to see him better because somehow, he looks familiar, though she couldn’t be quite sure under this dim light. 

“I just – need to use your phone, or half an hour to charge mine.” He begs, showing her his dead phone whilst letting her sizing gaze roams over him.

“Please, it would save my life. Please?”

 

There's something in the way he looks at her, something in his voice, something that she could not put her fingers on. But in that instant, her gut tells her to just go with it. Give the poor man a helping hand. With the taser ready on the grip her right palm she slips off the chains and opens the door wider.

 

“No games, or swear to god I’ll tase your balls!” She wields the said weapon as if it was a fierce sword.

“No games. I promise.” He answers truthfully as his tongue laps on his lips nervously. “I - I’ll pay you for it.”

Darcy eyes him once more, in a much brighter light flooding from inside her two stories flat (well it’s not exactly hers, it’s Jane’s too but she’s always at the lab), and dear god almighty … she could swear that her heart stops.

 

She definitely had seen that face before! No, it _wasn’t_ from the criminal news, absolutely not. But … _where?_

 

Or is this probably - a dream?

 

It seems like it. Because the man standing on her doorway, towering over her like a willow tree, though without a pair of wings is without a doubt, an angel. A fallen angel. She's no painter, nor a sculptor, but at this moment, she wished she were. He has this bone structure fit for a marble statue of a royalty showcased somewhere in an art museum, his cheekbones, his nose, high and chiseled, and the set of his jaw, sharp yet delicate, he’s a beautiful contrast of perfection. The mesmerizing shade of green in his eyes is a deep forest she’d love to get lost into, and his lips … _shiiiiit!_

_Did I just stare at him like an idiot? Dammit Lewis! Get a grip!_

“Fifty bucks an hour.” She blurts.  _What in the what now?_ She didn’t mean to say that, at least not to a person in need! Look at that beaten-sad-puppy! Her late parents would be so disappointed.

In her defense, she’d been awake for almost nineteen hours by now. Working with Jane Foster has taken most of her time as of late (translation : _forever alone). E_ specially when Erik isn’t around. Don't get her wrong. Boss lady is a brilliant mind with great personality, they’re best buddies above anything else but honestly speaking, when it comes to work, Jane is a complete nut job. Darcy suspected Jane thought herself as this Energizer bunny who doesn’t need any recharging, or eating, sleeping, or taking a bath and still able to go on and on and on inside their small lab. The thought of drugging the woman to sleep comes to mind at least once a week.

“Sure.” He lightly agrees.

The megawatt smile he throws at her as he utter that single word resuscitates her stopping heart.

“It was a joke, come on in.” Darcy steps aside, not meeting his gaze but still in her ready-to-kick-your-ass stance.

“Thank you very much, you’re a live saver miss – “ He offers another smile as he offers his hand. 

“Lewis, Darcy Lewis. But you can call me Darcy.” She takes his hand. Long pretty fingers frozen by the cold weather outside.

“Loki.” He's no longer sure on which last name he could choose. _Odinson? Laufeyson?_ For none belongs to him.

“Have we - met before?” She adjusts her glasses, narrows her eyes.

“I don’t think so. I’d definitely remember if we have.” Her small hand still in his grip, and for whatever reason, he’s reluctant to let it go, thus he lingers in her warmth.

 _She knows that face. Swear to god she knows._ Her mind insists.

 

Wait a minute - he said his name is Loki ...

 

_Loki?_

 

Her hand instantly stiffens as she withdraws it slowly from his. 

“You’re not _the_ Loki Odinson - aren’t you?” _Of course he is you idiot!_ The world isn’t lucky enough to have two of this kind of a man roaming about!

There's a short pause, so short she almost thinks she's imagining it before he answers in that velvety baritone of his, “The bastard. Yes I’m _the_ Loki.” He couldn’t mask the bitterness laces in his voice.

Oh crap, she didn’t mean to be rude! “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant, I just -”

Suddenly, footsteps march far-out the street and he instantly barges in and closes the door behind them with an unreadable expression.

“No worries Darcy,” He turns to face her again before he leans down to take off his shoes and line them neatly beside her purple (glittery) sneakers, “for once, the media were delivering truth.” 

“Least now we know you’re _not_ Jack the ripper.” She’s not sure what to make out of his statement. The news got it bad. They portrayed him as this opportunist cat in the middle of a dynasty corporate battle. Though looking at him, he doesn’t seem to fit the mold.

“Alas, the sight of blood petrified me.” That isn’t entirely a lie.

“That makes the two of us.” Darcy could see the tense in his posture diffuses by the time those steps are no longer in their hearing distance. 

“You got chased by the paps did you?” Finally realisation dawns on her.

Faintly, he nods with a wary smile. There are lines of sadness and unspoken pain strained on his face, lines that tug on all her heartstrings’ chords.

In her field of work, she doesn’t actually follow the story about his work or his past. But that was _before_ his gorgeous face parading on printed papers or published sites. Now she knows random details about this supposed to be stranger. How he likes to take his coffee (plain and black), the size of his shoe (hey, blame the sites!), and _umm_ … other unrelated things. Oddly enough, he left the gleam and glory world of the Odinsons, chose to hide behind the shadows instead. Now he works as a writer and a war journalist for big name publishers. That last one sure takes some serious guts.

Darcy offers him a spot on her couch where he promptly plugs his laptop and phone. He lounges with a sigh, clearly tired. Coffee. Must brew some coffee, she needs one herself.

 

“Did I wake you?” There's an apparent concern in his tone.

“No no,” She waves it off, “I was still working on something.” Data input. Endless data input!

“Really? I’m glad then.” The laptop screen gleams on his face. Neglecting his emails brimming with nothing but junks lately, he chooses to open the airline’s site. First flight. Out of London. 

“Really. I work at Shield’s science department and my boss, Jane - can’t differentiate between night and day, or the fact that us humans _aren’t_ nocturnal. Though thanks to her, I am now.” She shrugs with a wide smile, setting two cups on the table.

 _Science?_ So she’s beautiful _and_ smart. “Sounds fascinating.”

“Clearly not as fascinating as yours. Must be fun, being a journalist?” She’s not good with pretense thus she doesn’t feel the need to pretend not knowing him from all the information she read online.

His eyes flicker to hers, “I wouldn’t call it fun per se. But it’s challenging, feels like -  what I do actually matter and in some grave moments, everything else … thins out.” And when all those deaths swallowing the innocents, in every scene he witnessed and captured, he felt how small his life was, how fucking selfish and insignificant all his trouble were.

Somehow, she can relate to his answer. Darcy thinks as she drinks in his solemn expression. Those feelings when she stands in the eye of a storm. Though it’s not half as dangerous as what he does, but at those times, it reminds her that everything in this world is nothing but a collection of fragile finite fragments and at any given moment this vast universe could easily swallow her whole, leaving not a single trace behind.

 

“Have you live here long?”

“About two years now, me and Jane, we’re like gypsies, we move where the job takes us.”

“Gypsies?” The corner of his lips quirks, “So I did knock on the right door.”

 

The relaxing scent of coffee fills the air as conversation pours in and minutes run. She likes the dawn, fleeting minutes before the sun comes up, where everything asleep gradually comes to life. How funny people must be, because though everyone thought she's loud and brash (and she is), she finds serene moment like this is intimate and precious, not one to be share with strangers. Only, sharing this small space with him, in this wee hour of the morning, she doesn’t feel bothered. At all.

 

***

 

The sky above is a mixture of dark blue and burnt gold, and off they talk, and off they laugh. Side by side on the plush of her couch with Sinatra singing faintly in their background, long passed the thirty minutes he had proposed. Though to his relieve she doesn’t seem to mind. Loki never talks this openly this fast to anyone before, but then again, none of his companion was her. There’s something in her that dragged out the life buried deep in his chest, something he thought was long dead. She talks about her childhood, her friends, her work, her dreams, and in return he shared his. Those things he never talked about to anyone before.

 

“So your folks really named you two after the Norse gods? Thor was _meh_ , but – Loki? Man, you’re mischief incarnate, a trickster!”

“What can I say,” He shrugs in a dead pan expression, “I’m adopted.”

Darcy scoffs at his retort, “At least Snori said he was smart, _and_ handsome.”

“Was he? Am I?” He had refrained himself from his fruitless attempts to search for a flight (it’s the holiday season after all) and chose to enjoy her company instead.

“You had to ask?” Darcy rolls her eyes, not so secretly enjoying their flirtatious banter.

That smile of his shifts to a wicked grin, “Not really, but hearing it from a lovely lady wouldn’t hurt.”

Blushing as the azaleas she tries to laugh it off, “Na-ah mister, not gonna stroke your ego tonight!”

 

 _Tonight?_ Darcy turns her head to the window. It’s _hella_ bright outside!

 

Muttering a curse she swiftly unfolds her feet and places down her empty coffee cup. “Shit! It’s almost 7AM!” 

Loki stretches and yawns. “Work?”

“Yes, there’s a meet – “ At the last word, she stumbles at the tangled cables down her feet when she's about to scram from where they cozily sit. With an embarrassing squeak she lunges straight on to his lap.

Not in an elegant princess-y pose, nope, that kind of fall does not happen to Darcy Lewis. She’s half laying on his (fine) thighs and her tits plastered tightly there with her butt (with her _short_ shorts!) perking in front of his face as if ready for a spanking. Great!

 

“I think – you need to rest.” He chuckles though tries not to move, because he notices what’s pressing on his thighs.

 

He helps her as she wiggles away to a more decent position, though still on his lap, but at least she’s half straddling him and her tush isn’t poking to his face. “Well I _can’t_ afford to rest – _umm_ can we forget this ever happen? My ass on your face I mean. We have enough entertainment for one morning don’t you think?” She says as calm as she could muster.

 

“I don’t know,” He replies as he looks into her eyes and the gaze mirrored back catches him in a spell and everything around them starts to decelerate and pales away.

 

Gradually, he leans closer, “I would love – “ He removes her glasses out of the way and place it on the table. “ to have some … “

The pitter-patter of her heart reaches to a dangerous speed as she leans to his advance, clutching to the front of his thin gray shirt. He’d been staring at her lips often and longer than necessary (to be fair, she did too) as they shared their stories. The flirtation they threw at each other finally narrowed down to this one inevitable moment.

Air is suddenly tight and electrifying, tension crackling around them. Heartbeat mingles as they're closing in, not taking their eyes off each other. From an inch to a breath apart. Then he whispers the last word to her lips, asking for her consent, “ – more?”

 

“More.” She answers breathlessly as she crushes her lips to meet his.

 

By all the Gods, she feels amazing, beyond amazing, brilliant colours come to life even with his closed lids. She's so soft and lush, as if she’s melting in his hands, on his lips.

After some moment that feel too soon, Loki halfheartedly pulls away, letting his forehead rests on hers, “Shall I stop?” his breath is heavy and harsh, as hers as well.

“Maybe – “ She softly whispers to his mouth, kissing the side of his jaw before once more, grazing her lips to the surface of his, “Maybe we should stop…”

The tip of his tongue welcome her tease, “Maybe we should,” 

“Yeah, totally,” She closes her eyes, bringing her hands around his neck, his breath ghosting on her nape. 

“Tell me to stop …” He dares her, lean fingers roaming on her back down to the swell of her hips and ass.

Throwing all her care out the window she rolls her hips to the magnificent bulge pulsing on his crotch, “Don’t stop.” 

His jaw clenches as he groans, he tilts her head to face him, and once again unavoidable current catches them, pulling them downstream.

“Darcy …” His word calling out to her soul, then he repeats some more as he leans close, so close, though not close enough. And this time, boldly, without any restraint, he tugs her lip with his teeth, with his lips, softly, demandingly, exploring every millimeter, every angle imaginable on those beautiful beautiful lips of hers. She unfolds a bit more, letting him delve deeper into her space as the tip of her tongue teases his lips, again and again and again.

 

Until her phone rings.

 

***

 

“Darce! Darcy Lewis!!!” Jane Foster’s voice snaps her out of her daydreaming.

“Wh - what?”

“I’ve been talking to you for the last," she looks over her watch, "fifteen minutes and you’re not listening to a single word I've said!” Her boss perches her hands on her hip, looking mighty beautiful (as ever) despite her lack of eating, sleeping and personal hygiene. Some girls just have all the luck.

“Jeez Jane, I stayed up all night to finish the last report of our outing! Give a girl a break!” Actually her mind flew elsewhere. Fuck work. She was thinking about the unexpected guest she left at home (and their steamy kisses, _boy_ that man can kiss) who's most probably asleep at this moment.

Loki told her about his late night rendezvous with those paparazzi. Poor guy. Lucky her.

Did he manage to get a ticket? Would it be so bad if she wished he hadn’t? Because she’s not gonna lie, both her brain and body are aching to be with him. If it weren’t for that damn phone call they might already … _oh god, don’t even go there Lewis! You just met the guy, this is crazy! What are you? Desperate?_

Honestly, this isn’t how she usually rolls, _when_ she rolls. She’s not an easy girl and is proud of it. But this morning, she’d let him have her. _All_ the way. Her body hums and tightens at the memory. And who could blame her really? Just look at the guy! That man is all kinds of perfect. He’s not just a pretty face, there’s kindness and depth in his old soul. Though bruised and battered, but that’s a part of what makes him so different. He hides behind a callous mask, but she can sense that deep down he’s as soft as his kind smile. She likes being with him, and she knows he does too. She noticed the way his eyes ran after her when she looked away (and thought she wasn’t aware).

He told her stories from the front line (coming out of his mouth, every word feels as if classic literature being read to her by a poet), when he went to covers for GQ over what happened in Syria back at 2013. Then on to the next year when he went to Afghanistan, where he accidentally got shot on his back. Said he was lucky it was a clean one, the bullet went all the way through and missed his heart by an inch.

_“Can I see?”_  

_“It’s nothing but a scratch now.”_

But then he lifted his shirt and turned to give her a good look of his broad back. Darcy carefully traced her fingertips over the silvering scar. He was right, it was nothing but a scratch, but that small wound could’ve cost him his life. The thought made her shudder.

They sent him home after, and his journalist career in the front line ended. Unfortunately, the wound leave more than just a scar, he could no longer carries around heavy objects with his right hand. That was why he’s back in London, hoping to meet a specialist that could fix him, completely oblivious to the family drama he was welcomed with upon his return.

_“I thought it was my time, and I was ready, glad even.”_ He said at one point, looking up the ceiling at nothing in particular.

_“You didn’t mean that.”_

_“I’m sorry, I know I’m not always the best company to be around.”_

_“What are you saying? You’re a great company, I’m glad you knocked on my door.”_

_“You do?”_

_“Uh – hum. Look at me! Having a one-on-one exclusive with the famous Loki Odinson without having to chase him around town.”_

_“Infamous you mean?”_ He tilted his head.

 _“Hey you got a reputation to keep with that name, be proud.”_ She nudged at his shoulder.

_“Oh you’d be surprise. I did my share of mischief back in the days.”_

_“Good for you mister. Good for you.”_

Their hands rest side by side with her pinky almost touching to his, and at the time, none made the first move to get closer. Still in their safe distance he then added, _“I’m glad that I knocked on yours too.”_

 

“ **Hellooo?** Earth to Darcy! You’re zoning out again!” Jane repeatedly tapping the tip of her pen down the wood surface of the conference table in utter annoyance. She hasn’t been sleeping for two days straight! And the usually perky and always reliable assistant extraordinaire Darcy isn’t even half present in this lab!

“Nooo I wasn’t, _but_ just to be sure, what were you saying again?” 

Jane huffs with her pouting lips, “I said, and I repeat, Coulson called and said our request for extra fund is finally being considered and if all goes well we can go visit New Mexico next week. Erik and his team will meet us there.” 

“Oh Jane that’s awesome!” Darcy’s hands slam to the table, it really is an awesome news, they’ve been pitching over it for months!

“I know right! That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you!” A wide toothy grin finally breaks on Jane’s face.

“Great! Now, can I get home early today?” She hopes she didn’t sound to eager, but what the heck.

“Why?” Jane’s suspicion arises at her assistant’s request. “It’s not even weekend, is this about a guy? Do you have a date? Who is he and why haven’t I heard of him?” Darcy never asks for early leave, she’s happy to be around the lab and sickness rarely catches her.

“Mom, chill out. I don’t have a date and even if I do, why should I tell you? You probably would lash out at him like you did last time.” Definitely, positively not a date. Nope.

“Hey, that guy was a jerk! You deserve better.” She rounds from the table and jaunts to where Darcy sits.

That guy was a jerk, but it was almost two years ago, she hasn’t met anybody else since. Not that she had the time _or_ the need. _Until_ this morning.

“I know I know, you love me, and I love you for that.” Darcy stands up, leaning her forehead to Jane’s shoulder. “But trust me, no date. I just need to sleep, then do some packing in-case we’re really going to New Mexico.” 

“If you say so … “ She’s so gonna catch her on this one anyway, Darcy is never one good with keeping secrets too long from her.

“You’re not coming home?” Darcy askes for the last time before she saunters off the room.

“Nope, can’t do.” Her mind momentarily flies to the Einstein-Rosen Bridge schematic that she scribbles a while ago. “This weekend, I’ll come home this weekend, I need fresh undies.” She uses all her stocks, two side, backwards, she even went on commando a few times (no one needs to know) before Darcy brought her a bunch of fresh new ones. 

 _Great!_ That means she gets the place all to herself (and Loki). She clears her table as fast as she can and leave the lab with only one thing on her bothered mind.

 

***

 

Loki opens his lids, slowly, adjusting to the light inside the unfamiliar surrounding though he finds himself quite at home resting at the couch. It’s been a full week since the last time he had a decent sleep. He stretches his hands far above his head as he lifts his well-rested body. The clock points to 4PM, which means he slept the whole afternoon away, which means Darcy is going to be back soon.

 

_Darcy …_

 

When was the last time the thought of holding a girl’s hand made him nervous? He actually felt that this morning, when her hand rested right beside him. He thought that he might actually combust and dissolve into stardust if she’d move her fingers a few millimetres towards his. Magic - that must be it. She’s a goddess and he’s completely helplessly besotted. Those heavy logs he carried around dissipated at the sight of her.

That woman surely is something else. It isn’t just the fair of her face and her skin, or those knowing magnificent big round eyes that shine bluer than the summer’s ocean, or the glorious soft brown hair that cascades down her to her back. No. It's more than all of those, there’s something about her, shining bright from within. She’s a breath of fresh air with her openness, her warmth and honesty. She talks with total abandon, forward with speaking her mind, and when she laughs … oh gods, when she laughs, he wants to treasure that laugh forever.

 _Forever?_   _Are you mad? You met her just the other night!_ Though Loki got to admit, it was pleasantly easy to be with her, as if they’ve known each other for a long time.

 

 _You’re not mad. You got lucky!_ His inner self reprimands him.

 

Meeting her is an absolute coincidence. Though Frigga would say that there’s no such thing as coincidence, but calling it destiny would be too much. He’s a realist not a foolish romantic.

 _“Why? No, I’m serious, why is love a terrible thing?”_ She asked him at dawn.

_“It is a great idea. An absurd idea but still a great one, of a happily ever after, two person against the world … but give it a few years and they’d end up hating each other.”_

_“Don’t tell me … you hide a couple of ex-wifes somewhere out there don’t you?”_

_“No, not a single one I’m afraid.”_ He laughed _, “Perhaps my problem lies in the unrealistic ways that people projects it. You know, the higher the expectations.”_

_“But still, what a wonderful idea it is isn’t it? Though not everyone would openly admit it, ain’t every little thing we do in life is a way to get people to love us a bit more? Our family, our friends, a special someone, or … even a complete stranger.”_

 

A complete stranger … like them. He looks down to his phone. The one way e-ticket out of London is already waiting inside his email. Tomorrow’s first flight straight to D.C. where one of his old friend, Stark, said he knows a great specialist in town.

 _“Come fly your ass out, meet me there, I know someone who could switch your wimpy arm with cool metal one.”_ The obnoxious man teased him over the phone. Loki was too tired that he didn’t bother to correct the man that it isn’t his arm that got shot. He just wanted to get away from all the fuss, to have a clearer mind to think on what his next steps would be. 

For days that was all he could think of, to get away as far as possible, metal arm or not. But now, he wishes to stay a bit longer. Though he doesn’t have a valid reason for that need. Not one that he could openly admit anyway.

Slowly, he rises from the couch and walks toward the small table. There awaits a bowl of fruits, a glass of orange juice and a basket of pastries with cheese and butter on the side. A yellow post-its glued to the glass.

  

> _Lunch for the grumpy trickster,_
> 
> _D :)_ _  
> _
> 
> _P.S : Coffee at the second drawer._

  

Loki smiles as warmth filled his heart. Indeed he got lucky. Too bad they met in such a terrible time in his life. Though come to think of it, most of his life consists of series of terrible bad timings. 

Before long he finishes the meal, squeaky clean, he was hungrier than he thought. After he cleans up, he goes straight to the bathroom (all with her permission beforehand of course). There he finds another posts-it, pasted on the mirror above the basin. There is no writing on it, but a doodle takes place. He guesses it supposed to be her, all cute and silly, holding a toothbrush and a towel. Those two things are neatly stacked on top of the dresser.

How could he ever repay her? They’re basically strangers, but she shows him kindness more than he deserves. She listens to his stories, rebukes his angst with jokes, which surprisingly are better than sessions of therapies he took all those dark years.

Warm water sprays over his face, down to his whole body. He lets them seep in, rolling over his skin, shedding all the dirt and dried sweat from the other night. Too bad it couldn’t shed his mind off her. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her bashful smile after he complimented her, those lips, the way they kissed.

He’s very much ashamed of his own body reaction at the memories, but couldn’t help it. His hand intuitively reaches down. The fire inside him flares and wouldn’t cease, and the matter only got worse when earlier, she boldly rolled her ass on his crotch. It’s been a while since the last time he let himself go. His mind flies to paint a face, picturing her bare naked in front of him. The way her body would feel against his, full of curves, plump and soft. He runs his fingers around his shaft, up and down he goes whilst imagining it is her he's pounding into. How amazing she would feel, tight and creamy, swollen pink and dripping with arousal.

 _Darcy, Darcy, Darcy,_ he chants her name in a quiet whimper. As the sensation builds higher and higher, he strokes harder, faster.

This morning he could have her, right there at the couch, and she wouldn’t mind. With the unabashed hunger he saw flashing in her eyes, the way she moaned when they kissed. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Oh gods he needs to fuck really bad before he turns into a dirty old man, dreaming about the good Samaritan who generously took him in.

But how could he not? Those beautiful lips, how good it must be to have her kissing him in all different places of his body, and those breast, glorious breast, how he wants to get a taste, to hold, to touch, to lick, to suck. Her skin would feel soft to the touch, slippery with sweat from their love making, she would writhes and cries out beneath him.   

The vivid images playing before him are too much to take, and after a few more strokes he empties himself. Pulsing and gasping, but the ache lingers. He had managed to deny simple pleasure all these times, for he could no longer finding the point nor the satisfaction in a simple fuck with endless women like he used to when he was younger. Darcy’s different and he doesn’t think he could deny himself this time. Not with her, because he still wants her, badly.

 

***

 

With bags of groceries in her hands, Darcy gets home at 5PM. She wants to cook for him (dear heavens, the feminist would hate her so much right now!), because she knows they couldn’t get out with those paparazzi still haunting him in every corner. Yeah, and she also wants to impress him with the only sorcery she masters.

Wondering what he’s doing right now and whether he already get himself a ticket she adjusts the paper bags on her hand to open the locked door.

In all honesty, she expected to find him seating on the couch, dozing off, or typing something on his laptop, or maybe even secretly dancing when he thought no one is around, but what she didn’t expect (or ready) was to find him, standing half naked in the middle of her living room, damp and delicious with the white towel clings dangerously low around his narrow hips, with droplets of water rolling on his smooth skin. 

 _Holy David!_ Michaelangelo should fucking see this! Those lean muscles sculpted to his torso, the damn Adonis belt, his long runner legs. He stands there, all regal and poise like he’s some kind of a deity. For a split second, she wouldn’t be surprise (or mind) if this was Loki the mischief maker himself, making an appearance before her. 

“Hi! Wow, I mean, sorry – I didn’t know you’re – “ _What?_ Smokin’ hot?!

“No, no, I’m sorry, forgive me,” He grabs the shirt and pants he left on the couch before. And just like that, he goes back to the bathroom, leaving her flustered and bewildered. Flourished with dirty imagery. 

With great effort she brings her mind off the gutter, before she turns into a puddle of goo on her own floor. She unpacks the grocery on top of the kitchen island. Fresh tomatoes, onion, minced meat, wine, oregano and all other spices. No one can go wrong with pasta, especially with her grandma's secret recipe.

“Can I help?” Loki re-appears from the hallway, all dressed up, white shirt and black jeans, his hair is still damp and his clean scent smells divine.

“Sure,” She slides sideways to give him a spot, “Can you cut onions?”

“Diced?”

 _Ha, but of course you can!_ Her mind screams. How can a man like him knows how to diced onions? She eyes him, handling the knife and the onions like a pro.

Together they work for their dinner in perfect rhythm. If someone candidly captures the domestic moment, anyone would think that they’re an old loving couple, talking about random bits as they cook, with laughter every once in a while. She loves seeing his laughter, when he throws his head back, and when his tongue slid between his teeth, or when he blushes at her jokes.

“Ouch!” She cries when her inner wrist caught in the heat of the saucepan. She really should pay more attention to her cooking rather than to her yummy sous-chef. 

Swiftly, he puts down the pasta and takes her hand. He ushers her to the tap, running the cold water to wash over her skin. “We need to cool this off for a few minutes.” 

“Okay.” She answers as she rests her back to his chest. Darcy could feel his body tightens for a split second before he encircles his other hand around her waist.

“The sauce smells nice. You’re a great cook.” He says to her ear with a low voice.

“Wait ‘til you taste it. After the first bite, I bet you’re gonna fall head over heels with me.” 

He laughs, “Darcy, I think I don’t need to taste anything to be able to fall for you.” After the words left his mouth, he noticed that he wasn’t just saying it.

 _What did he just say?_ Darcy’s cheeks burn hotter than her wrist at his admission. “I get that a lot.”

“Mine is different.”

“How?” 

“Because …” He turns off the tap, but still firm in his hold on her, “I really mean it.”

The galloping heart beat and the heat creep in her skin went amok. She couldn’t contain the craze for much longer, but before she even turns he suddenly says, “I got my ticket.”

Those words were like a bucket of ice dumped on her head, “Oh,” She tries not to sound too disappointed, she knows he’d leave sooner rather than later, “So, when are you leaving?”

“First thing tomorrow.” He hates this, having to leave when all he wants is to stay right here with her.

She finally turns on her heels, letting her hand rests in the grasp of his. “This is the last supper then?”

With one palm he cups her cheek, “If we met in a different situation, I’d ask you out on a proper date.”

“Would you?”

“In a heartbeat.” Loki answers firmly. “Would you say yes?” 

She lifts her eyes to gaze at his, the thumping in her chest goes louder and louder, “Yes. I’d say a million yes.”

 

That is the last thing she remembers saying before his lips smoothly come to claim hers. They tug and suck and lave, over and over before his tongue joins in, shyly at first, tasting her lips, running along the outer lines before she opens them and let him in, deeper, hotter. 

The ichorous sound of their kissing mingles with the sizzling hot water, “The stove –“ She mumbles breathlessly as she peels her lips away.

Panting and clearly disoriented, he tugs her with one hand as he walks over to turn it off and continue where they left off. Both hands on either side of her head and his pelvis pushes her flat against the counter. She reaches to lace hers around his neck, molding her breasts to his hard chest. Enjoying the way the friction of the fabric feels on her nipples, tingling her senses, warmer and moister by the second.

“Aren't you hungry?” He whispers to her mouth before he lands butterfly kisses along her jawline. 

“Oh I am,” She answers hoarsely, “Starving.” _For you,_ she declares with her eyes.

Loki pulls away to take a good look at her, his face is all smoulder and taut with passion, his heart is jumping in anticipation. “You sure you want this?”

“I’ve never done this before, meeting a man just the other night and take him to my bed.” It’s the truth, but a few years from now she doesn’t want to regret this moment, wondering of what could have been and what she’s missing out on. “But I want you.”

“I want you too,” He says quietly as he traces the rim of her lips with his thumb, “You bewitched me Darcy Lewis … ”

“I could say the same thing to you.” She runs her fingertips up and down his abs, relishing the way his lean muscles ripple and constrict under her touch. “Take me Loki, make love to me.”

At once, he lifts her off the ground and strides to her bedroom down the small adjacent corridor. He takes his time to kiss her on the bedroom door and murmurs to her lips, “As you wish.”

 

***

_“I’ll come back Darcy, I promise you I’ll come back.”_

 

That was his last words before the midnight blue cabbie took him away. But until this day, there are not a single news from him. She eyes sideways and sees Jane’s sleeping like a baby, perhaps dreaming of the Cassiopeia and a space prince that will take her there, while she couldn’t shut her eyes without thinking of him. He was everything she never thought she wanted or dared to dream. Their random talks, the way he smiled, the sound of his voice, the taste of his lips, the way his body moved inside, everything, she misses everything about him.

Was he a projection of her imagination? A dream? Could someone get her heart broken by a mirage?

The moment they shared was too brief to deem it real. But … it was real! That 20 questions game they played was real, the cold pasta was real, this reddish bruise in her hand was a valid testament. Everything was as real as it can get. She never felt that kind of connection with anyone before. They connected. They fuckin’ did! Loki did more than just making love to her. Their heart tangled, and they whispered unspoken tales that speak of promises, of the very love his skeptical heart despised.

 

_“I wish I’d met you in a different time, I wish I knocked on your door yesterday, or the day before that.”_

_“Like me that much?”_

_“I do, I think I do.”_

_“You think or you know?”_

_“I know.”_

_“Me too.”_

  

 _Stop rewinding it Lewis! Gosh you’re not a masochist!_ He didn’t answer your emails _and_ your call! He’d probably already moved on and forgot about the things happened in London. 

Or perhaps … something went wrong? No, no, nothing went wrong. She read the news. The settlement he made for the inheritance. To the media dismay, it all ended peacefully, and peace never sell as well as nasty feud would. Loki signed his name off the will and give all the company shares back to its rightful owner, but the money, they said he donated them all. 

Didn’t she say he's perfect? These days, who would do that kind of thing really? No one! And that kind of guy wouldn’t be so rude as not to reply your emails wouldn’t he?

Before her brain explodes with more contradictive possibilities, the stewardess voice booms over the speakers announcing their arrival.

A yawn as the helpless romantic astrophysicist rouses beside her with half opened lids, “Are we there yet?”

“Yep, watch out New Mexico here we come!”

 

***

 

Loki knocks on her door once more, that very door he came to a week before, though it felt a lot longer than just a week. He knocks some more, but after another minute there's still no answer. There's no one at home he supposed. He was here to surprise her, guessed he should’ve call first. That is if he _still_ have her number! Bloody hell. The moment he arrived in D.C. a bunch of reporter recognized him, and through bustling sea of people he tried to dodge them. He did get away, but in the process the phone in his hand accidentally got smacked and cracked by the passing crowd. And after, there was no time to track her, not before he straightened out the mess that tangled his life in a chaotic state, because she deserves a better man, a man without an excessive complication piling in his baggage and he wants to be that man.

The whole week apart from her was the hardest. Frigga wasn't helping when she sent an overly eager Thor to be there for him since she couldn’t come herself because Odin was rather unwell. Thor stood behind his back like this giant guarding golden retriever through the whole ordeal. Loki would love to hate him, but he found it to be impossible, not to his brother (best not to tell him though, or else the big guy might end up all teary and melancholy).

Luckily, all those affairs got him busy enough to take her mind off her. All those legal mediation were settled without further ado. And finally, he met his real family. They were cold and distant, unlike the family he was so used to love and hate. Looking at them, there was no question whether they were related or not. No wonder he felt so out of place all those years with the Odinsons.

With aching heart he slips a note down Darcy's door before he leave, and promises to himself that he’ll send another email to let her know that he was here, and that he misses her, terribly.

His phone rings by the time he reaches his black coupe, “Yes?” He recognizes the number. It is from another magazine, begging him to fill a column for their upcoming issue. This time, he finally says yes and they scheduled to meet him the day after tomorrow at New York. He just wished he’d get to see her before he has to fly again.

 

***

 

Darcy gets home at 5:30AM, with Jane in tow. Tired doesn’t begin to describe what she feels. She’s halfway to her room when Jane suddenly calls out behind her.

 

“Darce, who is this Loki? The one that's missing you?”

 _How did - ?_ Before Darcy gets a chance to say a word, Jane shows the note to her face, “A-ah, don’t deny.”

She wants to scream and cry altogether at the sight of that note. His handwriting is so neat that it’s readable even with her teary eyes. “Oh my god Jane! He was here!”

“I’m not sure I follow, what the heck is going on?” Is this the guy that got her Darcy sulking around the whole time they were in New Mexico? Because if it is, she’d _love_ to have a word with him.

With one hand she snatches the note away from Jane and reads it thoroughly. He said he sent her emails (must be stacking in her junk), and he’d love to take her out to dinner and  – _what the hell?_ He’ll be gone by tomo – no, today at 7AM! She audibly gasps. “Oh shit oh shit he’s leaving again!”

“Whattt? Oh my god! Enough with the suspense! Who is this Norse god and where is he leaving to? Valhalla?” Jane throws her hands to the air.

“No no not Valhalla, worse,” Darcy utters in horror, ”He’s flying to New York! I need to get back to the airport. Now!” There is no way she’s going to miss out on him.

“Okay, okay, don’t freak out, I’ll drive you back there, even though we’re both tired as shit and would probably crash our car in the process. But I’ll still take you, and on our way, you must tell me, e-ve-ry-thing. _Capisce?”_  She points to Darcy’s face, while reaching out to grab the car key from the hanger.

“Yes Don Foster, let’s go!”

 

***

 

Lounging at the waiting area, Loki takes out his new phone to check on new emails. There are lots, but still, none from her.

Sometimes he wonders, how a brief encounter could change his life. If one night with her could give him such an impact, what would happen if he were to have her all his life? He still remembers the conversation they had after they made love, repeatedly, passionately. They talked about a home, where they both truly belongs, doesn’t matter where, or how big or small.

 

_“When I was a kid, my house was so packed it was amazing. I have two brothers, and four dogs. Can you imagine that?” She said with a wide smile, snugging her naked limbs to his. “Maybe that’s why I’m so terrible in being alone.”_

 

One of her brothers died in a car crash, while both her parents passed not two years later and her small world cracked. She wanted her full house back, brimming with random little trinkets of happiness they collected as the days went. When Loki heard those words, he was surprised to find that, for the first time in his life he actually wanted the same thing. A loving house he could call his own, with her and their children in it. Three at least, with dogs too of course.

_“And a telescope! Don’t forget the telescope.”_ She added. Yes, and a telescope, he smiles to himself.

 

The speaker announced his flight, it’s time to board the aircraft. With a heavy sigh he turns his new phone off and slips it to his pocket before he straightens up to buttons his suit, put on his aviator and grabs a small suitcase with one hand.

As he walks, he thinks that perhaps their coincidence, their magic, ends the day he left. That perhaps, she didn’t think of him as much as he thinks of her. If that’s the case, there’s nothing he can do but to wish her the very best. Though the thought of their memories might one day faint and ceased away clenched his heart.

 

“Good morning sir, your ticket please?” The blonde stewardess at the gate greets him.

He passes on the first class ticket he purchased with a polite nod when suddenly a familiar voice catches his attention.

 

“Sorry I missed our dinner.”

 

He takes off his shades and turns as fast as he could. And there, standing before him is the goddess herself. With her rosy cheeks and her wide smile. She’s panting as if she’s been running all the way here.

 

“I could arrange a re-schedule.” He answers as his feet take him closer to her. With rising pulse and pounding blood, he cheers, he rejoices, he praises the gods above for giving him another chance.

“I’d love that.” She meets him halfway, until they’re standing toe-to-toe in the middle of the crowded terminal.

“Have I told you how much I miss you?” Hastily Loki brings her to his tight embrace, to convince himself that this isn’t a dream. 

She nods, “Tell me again.” Darcy coils her arms around his waist. It feels so good, so right to be with him again.

In a blink of an eye, he leans down for a kiss, a brief and sweet one before he pulls away, “I miss you Darcy Lewis, I miss you so damn much.”

Darcy grins at his answer and stretches on her tip toe to land a peck on his lips, “And I miss you too Loki, miss you a lot.” 

“I know it’s crazy and sudden … ” He says, “But, would you come with me?” He asks, pleading with his eyes.

A pause as she thinks for an answer, “I’d love to but – “ Darcy turns to her watching boss, who’s apparently is all teary-eyed by now. Shit, that girl is so gonna post this on her twitter!

“Yes, YES, you can take her away!” Jane exclaims with flushed cheeks, “But, umm - be sure to get her back after a week.”

They both laugh at the answer, and Loki tugs Darcy closer, “I’ll send you back, but I cannot promise beyond that.”

 

 _What is he saying?_ Darcy couldn’t think straight at the sight of him, not this close.

 

“I’m planning to seduce you to my will. Because I want you. Not for a week or a month. I want us, for as long as you’ll have me. Can I do that?”

“Sure you won’t hate me a few years from now?” She teases.

“No, we’ll hate each other,” He crinks his nose with a grin, “But I promise you this, we’ll make up again, and again. What do you say?”

Darcy bites down her lip and smiles before she answers, “Yes, yes you can try.” She could hear Jane’s little squeak at the background, but she stifles her own, “Can we keep her though?” Which Loki answers with the most charming smile she ever laid her eyes on.

 

And there, under the mild summer's sun, in the middle of the blur of passing people, they share another kiss, a long lingering kiss, marking the beginning of their journey together, towards forever.

  

***

 

 

* * *

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> They marry in a small and private ceremony the next year (only six people were invited), where Thor and Jane met. Easy to say, Jane saw stars in his eyes as Thor saw lightning bolts in hers and they fell in love. 
> 
> True to his promise, they argue, they fight - a lot, but each morning, the fire rekindles and they fall in love all over again. They have five kids, four boys and one girl. And because Loki and Darcy lost their bet with Frigga all of their children ended up with Norse names like their father. Oh, and they also have two cats and two dogs. They raise them all with equal unconditional love. Frigga and Odin visit from time to time, the latter surprisingly turns out to be a dotting grandfather. 
> 
> As a well-known writer now Loki stays at home to watch the kids while Darcy puts her political degree to a good use. She heads  a presidential candidate team, for Pepper Potts. Thor runs their family company after Odin retired, while Jane is out chasing another storm with the Nat Geo team (Jane has a show where she hosts together with Neil deGrasse Tyson). Erik has his own team back at Norway where he married his partner, a beautiful man called Svenn. 
> 
> ○ The end ○ 
> 
> _Can I get a kudos maybe? Or a bit of love? No? Lol. Okay ... thanks for reading :*_


End file.
